


that one instagram au

by arcanawildcard, clairelutra



Series: Shuann Week 2020 [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Instagram, Meet-Cute, Pining, Social Media
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanawildcard/pseuds/arcanawildcard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelutra/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: Instagram model Ann Takamaki is getting more and more popular by the day—and attracting all the wrong kinds of attention while she's at it. Hoping to throw off some of the more unsavory admirers, her best friend and photographer, Shiho, suggests she start modeling with a guy. Let them all know she's taken, you know?As it turns out, that criminally pretty transfer student might be just perfect for the job.ON HIATUS
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Takamaki Ann, Kurusu Akira/Takamaki Ann, Persona 5 Protagonist/Takamaki Ann, Suzui Shiho & Takamaki Ann
Series: Shuann Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692796
Comments: 73
Kudos: 261
Collections: Shuann Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO it be [shuann week](https://shuannweek.tumblr.com/).
> 
> i was gonna try to participate normally, but never in my life have i successfully participated in any ship week, SO INSTEAD: i'm clearing out (or trying to clear out) my fairly sizeable backlog of drafts that languish in partial-completeness hell.
> 
> one day... one day i'll get back to weekly updates. lol.
> 
> this was brainstormed with [brainbuddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaRuX) and written early _early_ 2k19 and has rested in my drafts ever since. may it finally see the light \o/
> 
> (also, it fit very neatly into day 5: fashion/cosplay, so i'm submitting it to the shuannweek2k20 collection directly. be sure to check out the other fantastic entries!)

Akira couldn't remember why he'd gotten the Instagram app. He wasn't really one for photography—his account had about ten pictures of the family cat and a few pictures of cool rocks he'd found on the riverbed, all of them ancient. Maybe it had been to follow some passing middle school friend, or maybe there'd been a challenge or giveaway at Junes, it didn't really matter.

What _did_ matter was that was where he found x_panther.

She had twenty pictures up, all of her wearing designer brands, all undeniably _gorgeous_. 'Amateur model // Tokyo // Gonna take over the world one day! ♥'—no name given, just an enchanting, magnetic smile and legs that made his mouth go dry and the seconds skip and vanish with his pulse rate.

That she only had 82 followers seemed like a vast statement on the unfairness of life.

He made it 83, then stuck his phone back in his pocket so he could finish up his grocery run.

* * *

* * *

The very first thing Ann noticed about the new boy was that he was almost _unbearably_ pretty.

Wide feline eyes and slack, finely-cut mouth were set in a face with flawless porcelain skin and a bone structure that most could only dream of, half-hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses and unruly hair. He was tall, too; lean and long-limbed without gangling, posture impeccable even as he gaped.

He would _skyrocket_ to Instagram fame if he ever cared to try. She was a little jealous. Her own fame had been very hard-won.

The second thing she noticed was the gape, because 'dumbstruck' was a familiar expression, but still looked a little silly.

He didn't take offense at her giggle, which she couldn't say of many people, and followed her gaze when she looked out into the rain again.

* * *

Oh.

He was a criminal.

One with an assault charge and maybe a manslaughter charge; maybe he smoked, maybe he drank, maybe he shoplifted and robbed banks in his spare time—

It was hard to match all that up to the boy who sat behind her.

Maybe she was projecting, but she knew what that kind of isolation felt like. She knew what it was like to have nasty things whispered behind hands, for people to avoid your eye when it came time to partner up, to ignore you when you were struggling.

He didn't seem to belong anywhere, ghosting in and out of her peripheral vision. Lunch alone at his desk, the crowds scattering from him like iron filings in the halls, the slouch to avoid standing taller than their classmates and the way he slowed to eavesdrop, rather than attempt to join the conversation...

He seemed alone. And more than that, he seemed _lonely._

She didn't try to talk to him (not her place, not her game, he was still a criminal, what would _Kamoshida_ think—), but it felt... _better_ when he found a place between Ryuji and Mishima-kun and the rumors faded out of vogue.

She didn't think about it any deeper than that.

* * *

Besides, she had other problems.

"I don't know, Ann..." Shiho trailed off, squeezing her water bottle until it crackled. "Some of those commenters have been getting really creepy."

Ann winced. "You're telling me."

Instagram fame had its definite upsides... and also its definite downsides. She was getting more real gigs than ever now that she had a solid portfolio to her name, but there was more than one person who had been circumventing her attempts at blocking them, and she was starting to get nervous about doing outdoor shoots for fear that someone might pinpoint her location. One Kamoshida was already one too many, thank you.

"Wish I knew what I could do about it," she mumbled, slumping back against the bench.

Shiho stared sightlessly at a crack in the sidewalk, popping the kinks out of her bottle one by one. "...Maybe if you started modeling with a guy..."

"A guy?" Ann parroted, startled. "Who?"

Shiho twitched her shoulders in a shrug, not looking up. "Anyone, I guess. Just... a lot of guys tend to back off when a girl's taken. Maybe it'd chase away some of your fans, but maybe..."

"Maybe it'd help with the creeps too," Ann finished, sighing. "I'll... I'll think about it."

Shiho answered with a wan smile, then tilted her head to a distant whistle and stood. "I gotta go. See you tomorrow?"

"Always," Ann promised, getting up and fighting away the ache in her chest with a stretch. "Later."

* * *

And Ann _fully_ intended to sit on that thought for a long while—maybe she should take stock of her fellow models and sort out who might be willing to do an unpaid charity project with her with no strings attached (ha, as if), maybe she should ask her parents for recommendations, maybe...—as she went to investigate the vending machines for a bottle of Second Maid before she left school for the day.

The boy—Kurusu-kun?—was there, crouching to take a can of Arginade out of the drop space. He already had a bottle of Dr. Salt NEO and another of Joylent tucked into the crook of his arm.

Ann dropped her gaze as she slipped up to the machine beside his, the rumors about what would happen if you met his eyes floating through her head. (They were ridiculous when she heard them and they were ridiculous now, _but_...)

The machine took her bill and coins, dropping her bottle of mandarin goodness with a tumbling clank, and when she'd retrieved it and stood up again, Kurusu-kun had pushed his glasses up to study the drink label.

He glanced at her the way humans just tracked motion and—

Ann's heart lurched _hard._

If she'd thought he was pretty _with_ glasses, then he was _drop dead gorgeous_ without them. Now she could really _see_ his clear, stormy grey eyes and thick eyelashes, see his impassively regal face in full—he looked like he belonged in an _art museum._

Or on a magazine cover.

"Hey," said her mouth without any input from her brain, "have you ever considered modeling?"

* * *

* * *

So maybe _somewhere_ along the line (between 120 followers and 200 followers), Akira had to acknowledge that his passing attraction to x_panther had transformed into a fascination, and then further down the line (between 300 followers and 700 followers) that that fascination had transformed into a full-blown crush on someone he didn't even _know._

It didn't really matter if he found himself occasionally battling the wistful craving to kiss her, and it didn't really matter if he had all of her fleetingly posted selfies saved to his phone—she lived half a country away and several leagues above him. Nothing would ever come of this, and this fanciful fondness would fizzle and die as quietly as it came, he was sure (at 2,476 followers).

Then (somewhere past fifteen thousand followers but before twenty-two thousand, he'd been a little too distracted to check) he got sent to Tokyo alone, under maybe the worst circumstances possible...

And found her sitting at the desk in front of his—as rumors flew left and right about him and his sudden transfer and his criminal record.

He... didn't really have a clever comeback for this one. It just sucked.

(And really, wasn't this crush about to die anyway? There was no way she was as amazing in real life as she was online, right?

Right.

Except _Ann Takamaki_ was real and lovely and mysterious and, _worst_ of all, sad. Her smiles at school were rare and weighted and tired, a dim echo of x_panther's vibrant vitality.

It was _unbearable._

He couldn't talk to her, not with his circumstances, and he couldn't figure out what was _wrong_ without that, and either way he sure as hell wasn't in a position where he could help fix it.

He could only stand by and _watch._ )

And then, _months_ after he transferred (a little past thirty thousand followers), she talked to him.

_Talked._

To _him._

And the first words out of her mouth were, "Hey, have you ever considered modeling?"

...Uh.

"S-sorry?" he rasped.

"Oh!" And her voice was... almost chirpy. ( _Vibrant_.) "Sorry, that was probably a weird question to start with." She smiled a sheepish smile, easier and more _natural_ than any smile he'd seen from her yet, and _oh._ "You have the looks for it, so I was curious."

Akira hummed low in his throat, which was the only noise he could manage at the moment. The looks for _what?_

"Actually, I was looking for a model," she went on, looking away and shaking her bottle of Second Maid. "I'm... not sure if you know this, but I'm a model too! A professional one, but I also have a portfolio online—well," she giggled ( _giggled_ ), "I have an Instagram, anyway—and I've been wanting to add some collaboration shots. It's good to show the agency you can work well with other people, you know?"

He nodded in somewhat dazed agreement.

"So, hey, if you're interested, you should hit me up." She produced a phone, one with a glittery pink case to go with glossy nails tipped in light blue. "Let me give you my contact info."

It took all of four taps for his phone to obtain and store the addresses she'd sent him (phone number, chat ID, an email that looked more personal than professional), and then he was just sort of left with the knowledge that he _had_ them.

"There we go," she murmured to herself as she locked her phone and stowed it away again, then glanced up at him hopefully. "Text me if you're down and I'll give you the details, okay?"

Feeling a bit like he was swimming in fog, he nodded again. He barely remembered to lock his own phone before sticking it in his pocket. The world seemed to have taken a few levels in surreality during this conversation.

"Great!" She rocked back on her heels with a shy salute. "I gotta go. I'd love to hear from you!"

He waved, but his quiet, rough, "...Y-Yeah," only left him well after she was out of earshot.

He stood there a while longer, trying to figure out what had just happened, then realized that Yuuki and Ryuji's drinks were getting warm, and started walking again.

* * *

"Dude, what took you so long?" Ryuji demanded as he snatched his Dr. Salt NEO out of Akira's hands. "We were startin' to think something happened to you."

What _had_ just happened to him? "I think... I think I just got talent scouted. To model."

"What, really?" Ryuji squinted at him. "Well, guess I can see it."

_What._

"Man, that's lucky," Yuuki whistled as he accepted his Joylent. "Sucks that they'll probably drop it when they learn about your record, though."

"Nn..." Akira agreed distantly, then popped the tab of his Arginade and, trying not to wince at the taste, let that be the end of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurusu-kun messaged Ann much quicker than she thought he would.

Actually, with how impassive he'd been through her whole proposition, she hadn't expected him to get back to her at all—then she remembered that even with Ryuji and Mishima-kun she'd only seen him smile once or twice, and felt a little better. Some people just weren't smilers! She couldn't really relate, but she knew they were around.

...Well, he sure was pretty enough without the smile. Maybe they'd make a fun study in opposites.

All in all, that he got back to her that evening was pretty promising!

 **Akira Kurusu:** This is Akira Kurusu.  
**Akira Kurusu:** You said to contact you for details on the modeling job?  
**xPanther:** I did!  
**xPanther:** It's pretty laid back.  
**xPanther:** I'll tell you when I'm doing a shoot and you tell me if you can come along.  
**xPanther:** There will be fittings before that, too. I'll get you in contact with my tailor and you can work things out. I'll let him know to put it on my tab.  
**Akira Kurusu:** ...And the catch?

Ann winced. Moment of truth.

 **xPanther:** Well, the thing is that I can't... really *pay* you.  
**xPanther:** I mean, you'll get the clothes. Those are tailored anyway.  
**xPanther:** And if someone gives us an ad gig, then we'll split the pay three ways (you, me, and Shiho, my photographer).  
**xPanther:** And I can get you lunch afterwards, if that sweetens the deal.  
**xPanther:** But this is kiiiind of a charity project.  
**xPanther:** Sorry.  
**Akira Kurusu:** That's it?

Ann blinked at the message. Was _what_ it?

 **xPanther:** Huh?  
**Akira Kurusu:** That's all there is to the catch?  
**xPanther:** Uh, yeah, pretty much.

It was a solid _nerve-wracking_ five seconds before the typing ellipsis appeared again.

 **Akira Kurusu:** Their loss.  
**Akira Kurusu:** You got me.

"Yes!" Ann squeaked aloud, punching both fists in the air and flopping back on her bed.

 **xPanther:** Oh geez, you're a lifesaver. ♥  
**xPanther:** I gotta pick up some outfits and let the tailor know about this, but maybe we could start shooting in two weeks?

When Kurusu-kun didn't immediately answer, it was much easier to assume he'd gotten distracted or something—especially because she'd just asked about scheduling—but sixty seconds was about as long as she could take.

 **xPanther:** Kurusu-kun?

 _There_ was the typing bubble.

 **Akira Kurusu:** Akira is fine.  
**Akira Kurusu:** Yeah. In two weeks works for me.  
**xPanther:** Great!  
**xPanther:** I look forward to working with you!  
**Akira Kurusu:** Likewise.

Whew! Hopefully their shoot would go as smoothly as that had.

She deliberated over what to change Akira's contact name to, then decided that 'Akira' would work for now and switched conversations to update Shiho on the situation.

* * *

Of all the people Shiho had thought Ann might ask for a collaboration, Akira Kurusu had never even _touched_ the list.

She'd thought maybe Masuhina-san, or Takari-san, or one of those other models at the agency. She thought Ann would ask her parents for recommendations, or maybe check out her agency's list of models. She thought Ann was going to try to be a professional about this, as she usually was when dealing with all things x_panther.

Really, a classmate? _Kurusu-san_ no less?

But here was Shiho, sitting in on Kurusu-san's first fitting in Ann's place to make sure things went smoothly.

Now that she was getting a good look at him, she could kind of see why. He was pretty in a sleek, bad boy way that would compliment Ann's sexy-yet-innocent vibe very well. He looked like he should wear a warning label—'dangerous' or 'bad news' or something printed out of cut up magazines.

...She'd run that by Ann later.

(He made her... wary. Not full-on nervous, but she wasn't used to not being able to get a read on people, and Mishima-kun's friend was an enigma. She didn't believe the rumors, not for one second, but not being a violent hooligan didn't necessarily mean Kurusu-san was a _good person_. That hadn't really mattered before, but...

Ann.)

The tailor, Kuroki-san, hummed thoughtfully as she poked Kurusu-san's shoulder. "You've got some muscle under here, boy."

"I work out," he said with only the slightest downtick of dryness at the end, and Shiho honestly couldn't tell if that was a joke or not.

The comment rolled off Kuroki-san's back, as all things did. "You must. A shame to hide it under all this." She studied the sleeve of the jacket for a moment, then threaded a pin through the seam. She gestured at Shiho with another pin and said, "You tell your girl that, hear?"

"Mm," said Shiho. After today's volleyball practice, sitting down was too much of a luxury—she was closer to dozing than she'd realized.

If she didn't start doing _something_ , she was going to fall asleep right here.

"Say, Kurusu-san?" she started, then cleared her throat of the sleepy crackle. Voice stronger and slightly more awake, she continued, "What made you decide to do this?"

"Hm?"

"You've never modeled before, have you?" She sat further up, stretching out her bad leg and wincing at the spike of pain.

Kurusu-san considered his answer for two beats, then said, "It seemed interesting."

"Interesting?" Shiho prompted. The answer suited him, though.

"You're right; I've never done this before. It's new." In the mirror, she could see him idly considering Kuroki-san and her pins. He hadn't flinched at any accidental prickings yet—Ann usually spent her whole session trying not to squirm. His voice shifted from careful to humorous, and she was listening closely enough to catch it this time. "I'm trusting you to get my good side."

His voice suited him too, she thought idly.

"What about you? Why did you become Takamaki-san's photographer?"

Shiho hummed again, a musical noise that had tried and failed to be a word. She relaxed her jaw. "One of the directors who hired her told her she'd get more work if she had a better portfolio. We were already friends, so I did her first shoot and never really stopped." The subject was a welcome distraction. Already she could feel the knot between her shoulders loosening. "She's the reason I got into photography. She made it so much fun that I didn't want to stop."

"You really treasure her," he noted quietly, warmly.

Shiho blinked. It was true, but she hadn't been expecting him to call her on it. "...I do."

"That's good." Then, his eyes flicking to meet hers in the mirror, he added, "She's precious."

...Out of all the objectifying terms she'd heard applied to Ann, Shiho immediately decided that she liked that one the best.

She dipped her chin in a nod as a tired smile sneaked up on her from behind. "I'm happy you think so."

After that, she was too groggy to pursue the conversation and Kurusu-san didn't seem to speak unless spoken to, so the chatter died away again. The silence that followed it, however, was vastly more comfortable than it had been at first.

Maybe even a little _too_ comfortable.

Shiho was asleep in five minutes flat.

* * *

"Hey, thanks for helping Shiho get home," was what Ann greeted Akira with the next day, turning in her seat at lunchtime. "I don't know what you said, but you made a pretty good impression!"

Akira's glasses glinted reflected light as he nodded, and Ann was tempted to reach out and push them up, to reveal his eyes again. It just... seemed like a shame to keep them hidden, you know?

"So, how did the fitting go?" she pressed, flopping back in her chair. "Kuroki-san isn't exactly the most _careful_ tailor out there, but she's pretty awesome at making clothes look good."

"...It went well," he finally murmured, a little rough around the edges.

(Suddenly, she really, really, _really_ wanted to make him laugh. She couldn't imagine what it would sound like, which only made her want it more. Too much of him was a mystery, and it felt unfair to _both_ of them that this was one of them.)

"That's a relief," she said, more to fill the silence than anything else. Then she sat up to stare him down, because this had been _bugging_ her. "But seriously, what _did_ you say to Shiho?"

"...Not much," he said, which... was terrible easy to believe. Had Shiho taken a shine to his silence?

"She told me she _likes_ you," she sighed, almost whining. "She wouldn't even tell me why. She _never_ approves of the people I choose."

It wasn't his glasses glinting this time, but the eyes behind them, lit in quiet mischief. Just loud enough that the words weren't obscured at all, he said, "What can I say? I'm a charmer."

It was the first time she'd heard his voice in all this time, and _oh..._

It sounded like water and _smoke,_ smooth and low and powerful.

And all at once, it occurred to Ann that the person in front of her was a very attractive member of the opposite sex.

He _very definitely_ wasn't a statue in a museum or something shiny on a piece of paper. He was here and real and _gorgeous,_ a teenage heartthrob in possession of piercing grey eyes and a baritone that probably would have made her knees go weak if she'd been standing.

_Charmer._

"...Takamaki-san?"

"Ann's fine," she said weakly, automatically, and immediately regretted it. If he _said her name_ —

"Is everything okay?"

Oh. Good. She wouldn't die today.

"Great! Fine!" she blurted, face hot, then gave in and groaned. "Sorry, your voice kinda surprised me."

He tilted his head, the flash of light reflecting off his glasses only serving to bring her attention back to his stupid-pretty _face._

She giggled, maybe a little breathless. "I-it's nice. You should talk more."

"I'll take that under advisement," he said dryly, still warm and rich and _ohhh, it was kinda warm in here. How did that happen._

On second thought, maybe his reticence would work to her benefit. At least until she got used to hearing... _that._

"So Kuroki-san told me that she'd finish up with your outfits by next Friday, so I was thinking we could start that Saturday, after school," she said, because work was a safe topic that had all kinds of technical things to think about that weren't... that. "And if we're not totally done, maybe it could spill into Sunday. Sound good?"

That earned her another silent nod, for which she was very grateful and somewhat disappointed.

A week to calm down and mentally prepare would do her good, for sure, even if her schedule said it was going to be a hell week.

...But she _still_ didn't know what he'd done to earn Shiho's respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the inspo, courtesy of brainbuddy:
> 
> ann: //sees akiren "....oh. ♥"  
> everyone in school: thats the student with a criminal record, so scary!!!  
> ann: ...oh  
> akiren: //speaks  
> ann: ..............oh no ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> may's down to be a slow month for writing (so many medication changes, so many), but that's what a backlog is for, right?
> 
> (still like a month behind on comment replies, sorry o/)

Honestly, Akira had half expected this to be a prank. It was all too smooth, too open, and he was under no illusions about the state of his reputation. Getting scouted on his _looks?_ By _x_panther?_

Yeah, right. Pull the other one.

But here he was, two weeks later, standing in front of Ann's two-story home, a week after after going through a somewhat painful and very enlightening fitting, with all signs pointing to this being a legit _thing._

Huh.

They hadn't really talked much at school beyond settling the date, but she was busy and he didn't exactly have conversation topics. Recalling the one time they _had_ talked at school, he was left faintest suspicion that maybe that blush hadn't been _just_ surprise, and that firmly corralled any attempts he might have made right back down his throat.

(She _already_ made him uncomfortably tongue-tied. What was he supposed to do with _that?_ )

But... she didn't pretend she didn't know him. The smile she gave him whenever she met his eye was soft and real and only half as tired as she normally was, and his gut _lurched_ every time.

The one she gave him when she opened the door downright _glowed._

Precious indeed.

"Right on time! Come on in," and she thew the door open wide, unaware of the butterflies melting in his stomach. "We'll be working upstairs, in the west room."

The house itself was quiet, clean, picturesque. He couldn't help but notice that there was hardly a trace that anyone lived there at all. A few dirty dishes set by the sink (only enough for one person), a single jacket of some sort thrown over the back of the couch, a small group of picture frames on the walls that he didn't get close enough to inspect...

It was lonely.

In contrast, the west room was an _explosion_ of life.

Clothes were hung over available surface, props shoved haphazardly shoved against one wall with lamps and a tripod sprawling wires in every direction. x_panther's signature white couch sat in a cradle of tall white panels that made ambient light of the afternoon sun streaming in through the window. A collection of smaller reflective panels were stacked up just behind the corner of the panels.

It looked like a workplace. Busy. Used. _Loved._

He liked it much, much better.

Shiho, crouched by the tripod, greeted him with a faint smile and polite nod, but most of her attention remained fixed on her camera.

Ann, for her part, turned to an ironing board that was currently being used as a table, delving into a bag resting on the pointy end.

Pulling out the garments he remembered being poked to death in, she sorted through them, tossing them aside left and right onto nearby surfaces until she found what she was looking for.

"Let's start with these," she decided, shoving a long-sleeved grey shirt, a short-sleeved black overshirt, and a pair of blue jeans into his arms. "Bathroom's two doors down!"

And that was that.

However, the bathroom wasn't the only room two doors down, Akira found. Faced with a door on the left that seemed just as likely as the door on the right, he picked the right-hand one first.

It wasn't the bathroom.

Instead, it was a different kind of explosion: girly and pink, also covered in clothes, but also covered in posters and books and accessories, puffy quilt on a princess-style bed and cosmetics on the vanity. It was messy and childish and filled to the brim with Ann-things, and something in him just... relaxed.

Then it occurred to him that the white thing hanging off the hat stand to his right was most definitely a rather lacy pair of underwear, and he shut the door in a hurry.

Hand resting on the knob, he stared sightlessly at the plaqueless door for a few seconds.

 _That_ was what Ann's living space would (should) be like.

It said... _something_ that all the life in this house was corralled into two specific spaces, but he wasn't sure he wanted to dwell on that.

Instead, he turned around and entered the bathroom.

* * *

The clothes fit like a _dream._ He had a new appreciation for all that poking he'd endured. Even _he_ could look at himself and think maybe Ann had had a point with the, _you're pretty enough for it,_ thing.

He put his glasses back on as he walked down the hall. Slipping into the room again, Akira found that they'd started the shoot without him.

And it was kind of like a little bit of magic on its own, seeing x_panther's shoots happen in real time. He could understand now why Shiho had said that Ann made shoots so much fun she just didn't want to stop. She was bright, _vivacious_ , the camera flashing as she responded to Shiho's laughing prompts.

"Now you're a movie star who just won the Grammys—and not just one. All of them. What do you have to say for our audience?"

Ann composed herself, stood tall with her chest puffed out so the layered frills came to fore. Spidering and folding her hands in front of her lap, she said, "Thank you, everyone, for voting for _me_ , of all people. I would just like to take this moment to say—"

"Now you're a warrior angel, ready to strike us down with holy lightning!"

Ann twisted her torso into something off of a cathedral ceiling without pause, the glint of her audacious grin more suited to a flesh and blood hero than a holy being. She mimed throwing a javelin at the space below her feet, sending the long hem of her shirt fluttering around her black-clad thighs.

"Now you're a super secret superspy," Shiho said, a giggle in the words. "Don't get caught!"

This time she twirled, arms held low as she gripped an imaginary pistol. She slid her feet backwards over the stark-white floor, eyes narrowed in concentration as they darted around the room. With a quick scowl, she whipped around and aimed her gun at a distant corner only she could see, then fired with a little _ptchoom._

That was _fucking adorable._

She spun in a circle, shooting out imaginary security cameras as she went, then laid eyes on him. With another quicksilver grin, she raised her fingergun and cocked it, winked, then fired it with a, "Bang!"

(The gun was make-believe, but the bullet she'd aimed at his heart didn't feel particularly imaginary. He _felt_ that, dammit.)

With only the slightest bit of irony, he said laid a hand over his chest and said, "Fatality."

He might've felt the 'bullet,' but if he was being honest (and he often was), her utter _delight_ at the response hit harder.

Behind the lights, Shiho bent over her camera with a chuckle that was only half-smothered.

"You're back!" Ann said, letting go of her fictional handgun and walking over. She took stock of him slowly, carefully, then made an appreciative little noise that would probably fuel his ego for the next few years and said, "Looking good!"

Ahahaha... _ha._

He fiddled with the lock of hair that always _nearly_ hung in front of his eyes and replied, "Looking good yourself."

"Well, I'd hope so," she said, the compliment rolling off her back like water. She ushered him over to the light side of the room. "Okay, so the _most important thing_ to remember as a model is that _you_ are wearing the clothes."

"I'd hope so." It would be unfortunate if he wasn't. Especially after that tailoring appointment.

"You can't let the clothes wear you," she went on, ignoring that and positioning him in the middle of the crescent. "Otherwise you'll just be a pretty mannequin, and _anyone_ can be a mannequin."

"So... that's not what a model is," he checked. He might be more worried about this if her hand didn't keep brushing his shoulder. That was pretty distracting.

"Nope!" Another grin, this one much closer and even more distracting than the bodily contact. "You gotta bring out the _essence_ of the clothes. You need to use your whole spirit to draw people in and get them to really _appreciate_ what you're wearing. Modeling is an art that requires not just good looks, but _charm_ and _guts_ too!"

"I think you might be confusing him," Shiho murmured, unmistakably amused. "How about we do some trial shots? We can work from there."

Ann actually _was_ making sense (in a nonsensical kind of way), but he didn't object when she retreated. It made it easier to actually think about what she'd said.

The 'essence' of the clothes? The 'essence' of the look, maybe. To _look_ like what you were wearing... or something like that.

Hm.

"Look this way, arms loose at your sides," Shiho instructed, and Akira was surprised into compliance. "Now hands in you pockets... Now turn... that way... now push up your glasses and tilt your head like— yeah, that's it."

Much more lowkey than the prompts Ann got, but that was a relief. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Shiho told him to be Superman after a long day at work or something.

Beside the camera, he could only half-see Ann, but she had a hand on her chin and was nodding slowly as she watched him, which... well, it wasn't _dis_ approval, so.

"Remember, Akira, you're the one wearing the clothes," she said, and her words slip-slid in his brain for a few seconds because the sound of his given name on her lips was... much more intimate than expected.

'Wearing the clothes'... Put more energy into it, maybe?

He glanced down at his ensemble, considering, then straightened and pulled his glasses away from his head. Pushing himself into a sense of _presence_ that he didn't normally bother with, he glanced sideways at the camera and smirked.

There was a moment of lag, then Shiho clicked the shutter.

"Like that?" he asked afterwards, and was met with... utter silence?

Shiho straightened and glanced at Ann.

Ann dropped her hand from her mouth and glanced at Shiho.

Akira spared a moment out of his self-conscious anxiety to be impressed with their synchronicity.

"...Yeah," said Ann, oddly pitchy. "Like-like that."

Shiho was quiet for another two seconds, then busied herself with her camera and cleared her throat. When she spoke, it was with a tone of distinct approval and a fair amount of amusement. "You're a natural, Kurusu-san."

Ohhhh-kay then.

* * *

Shiho had him shift through another five or six shots before Ann joined him, warm at his side.

"Now... How should we do this...?"

"Make us cool," said Ann, rather decidedly. "Like something out of Mission Impossible."

"Alright then," Shiho said, and ducked behind her camera again. "Back-to-back. Ann, point your gun and the ceiling. Kurusu-san, at the ground—move your leg a little closer here and point your foot out... Ann, tilt your head a little further... Kurusu-san, puff out your chest a bit... There."

And so it went.

Shiho shifted between technical instructions and playful prompts—he was James Bond, she was Regina George, he was a cat-petting villain while _she_ was James Bond—and it was... fun. Easier than he expected, too, even if those instructions tended to get fuzzy and lost whenever Ann brushed up against him again.

Which... was pretty often. Hm.

"Hey, is this going to be okay?" he finally had to ask after a shot that had him and Ann smirking at each other in a way that could... _probably_ be constructed as 'sexual tension,' if the viewer was so inclined. "Your fans... might not like this much."

And she had a _lot_ of fans.

A silence fell that sounded a lot like guilt.

Akira kicked back the voice that said, _knew it, this is where someone pops out and yells psych,_ and waited.

"Well," Ann said, wincing and absently swinging her arms a little. "That... um..."

Shiho poked at her camera for a few seconds and then sighed. "That's... somewhat our intention."

That wasn't the _psych_ he was expecting.

"...Intention?"

"Some of my commenters..." Ann's arms stopped swinging, her eyes hooded and dark and (fuck) _tired._

"Some of them have been talking about how much they'd like to come and, ah, _meet_ Ann," Shiho said to her camera roll. "Or getting really loud about wanting her to wear less."

...Oh, he remembered those users. Before, they'd gotten dogpiled, but lately they'd gotten... a lot more _numerous._ And a lot more insistent.

"I closed my DMs because some guy kept harassing me for my address so he could send me lingerie to model," Ann mumbled, folding her arms over her chest and scrubbing her biceps, and Akira felt more than a little sick. "We were hoping that maybe if it looked like I was taken, some of them might back off."

This was most _definitely_ not the _psych_ he was expecting.

Liquid blue eyes peeked up through dark eyelashes. "Sorry, I... probably should have been more upfront about that. We could probably still find someone else, if you're not okay with this..."

Her tone said that no, they probably couldn't, actually.

Akira considered. His decision was made, of course, but the words to express it...

Shiho spoke before he could come up with anything. "It looks like he's okay with it to me."

"Shiho!"

He glanced at her, unimpressed (because, really, who was _she_ to decide that?), but she just smiled mildly, _knowingly_ , and it occurred to him that the person whose job was to watch them very carefully might have caught on to his crush. Maybe just a little.

He didn't sigh, but he did concede. "She's right."

(Like he'd turn down the opportunity to help. Like he'd turn down the opportunity to dispel that worry and make her smile like she had been just now. Like he wasn't a total sucker who probably would have accepted even if she hadn't been Ann Takamaki.

She was Ann Takamaki though, and his chances of turning _her_ down ranged from zero to nil.)

The look she gave him only cemented the decision beyond reversal—he might as well have offered to fetch her the whole moon for how hopeful and grateful she looked.

"Told you, didn't I?" He felt his shoulders relax, fondness tightening the back of his throat. "You got me."

She beamed, eyes sparkling and cheeks pink in a way that might have been a blush or might just have been makeup, but was still unfairly pretty either way.

Ah, _damn._

"Then should we keep going?" Shiho said, breaking the spell.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh!" said Ann, her voice riding the edge of a hiccuping giggle, and all Akira could do was nod in agreement.


	4. Chapter 4

With that, some immeasurable amount of tension left the room.

Shiho's estimation of Kurusu-san had been proving mostly correct—a perceptive, chivalrous boy who kept his cards close to his chest via reticence and humor—but now that they'd all relaxed...

Now Shiho was starting to see that he was kind of a sap, too. A _playful_ sap with a flair for drama and a protective streak a mile long.

( _You got me?_ Really? And he'd even _meant_ it.)

Not exactly what Shiho expected to find under those big, shiny glasses, but she could dig it.

Especially with how fun it was to photograph the two. Their dynamic was only partially the 'good girl/bad boy' one Shiho had expected—she wasn't sure how he did it, but Kurusu-san pulled the flirt out of Ann.

It was a startling difference for how _subtle_ it was. A cock of the hip, a smile caught between playful and coy, a little more energy in her performance, and she had Kurusu-san eating out of the palm of her hand.

And, to be fair, she was eating out of his too, consciously or not. It was so much _fun_ to watch how they bounced off of each other, to watch the smirks and the flaunts and the taunts, the way they instinctively followed each others' lead, the way they moved in total sync.

There were so incredibly many good shots to be had that Shiho almost couldn't click the shutter fast enough.

(It was going to be very, very easy to convince people they were dating. Shiho wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that, especially considering her initial reservations about Kurusu-san, but it would be useful, to be sure.)

She pulled him aside afterwards, done just as the sun started to set.

"Kurusu-san?"

He tilted his head towards her, expression neutrally curious.

It was nice, starting to be able to read his face. "I am usually the one who chooses the photos that get uploaded to x_panther. Ann trusts me to do it alone, but I wanted to make sure that was okay with you as well."

He blinked, then nodded.

...It was astounding just how much _less_ expressive he was behind the camera.

"Ah, before I forget..." She pulled out her phone. "Could we trade numbers?"

And it wasn't until she was looking at Kurusu-san's very plain set of contact names that it occurred to her—"By the way, do you have an Instagram account?"

A flicker of something guarded passed through his eyes, but it vanished before she could be sure it was really there. "I do. It's not much to look at."

Must be a personal account then.

It then occurred to her that Kurusu-san was going to be the focus of a fair amount of negative attention soon, and couldn't help wincing a little as she offered, "Should Ann tag you when she uploads these?"

That seemed to have occurred to him too, because he glanced to the side before looking back at her and saying, "I'll pass."

She let out a breath of mild relief, then bowed briefly, belatedly remembering her manners. "Thank you. Your help..."

His eyelids dipped in mild amusement. "I haven't done anything yet."

"I think you have." Shiho didn't think Ann had had this much fun in a long time. Not since...

Kurusu-san noticed the shift in her mood. He adjusted his glasses and tilted his head, prompting.

"Mnn... It's nothing." It wasn't his problem. She walked past him to collect the clothing he'd changed out of—neatly folded and set aside out of the way, a stark contrast to Ann's explosive mess.

Ann herself appeared in the doorway at that point, hair down and dressed in her 'chill' clothes, looking enviably relaxed and pleased with herself. She stretched her arms above her head with a tight sigh, then said, "We did great today. This is going to be a hit."

_Well. A hit to your follower count, but a hit's a hit... or something like that._

Somehow, Shiho got the feeling that Kurusu-san was thinking the same thing—it was the vague hesitance in his nod that gave it away.

(It did not escape her notice that he'd gone unnaturally still for a few moments after Ann walked in the door, though.)

A wry smile crossed Ann's face. "Kinda sucks that this won't help with Mr. Kamoshida, though."

"...Mr. Kamoshida?" Kurusu-san echoed.

She made another face, then a tired frown, then smoothed her bangs to the side, looking like she'd been reminded of a dead puppy. "He's kinda..." Then she seemed to realize what she was saying, and shook the melancholy away. She forced a beatific smile, edges of the mask plainly visible. "No, never mind. I shouldn't bother you with this. Seriously, thank you for all the help."

(Shiho wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not that Coach was so willfully blind or not. On one hand, he couldn't see how desperately Ann wished he'd leave her alone, but on the other hand, he couldn't see how desperately Ann wished he'd leave her alone. For all of Coach's many talents, taking 'no' for an answer wasn't one of them.)

"Hmm..." said Kurusu-san, and that was all he said.

"...I'll walk with you to the station," said Shiho, pressing the bag of clothing into his hands, and he just nodded.

* * *

 **xPanther:** Shiho  
 **xPanther:** *Shiho*  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Yes?  
 **xPanther:** This is the worst.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** ?  
 **xPanther:** Who thought this was a good idea?  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** 'This'?  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Give me the plain Japanese version, please.  
 **xPanther:** Akira Kurusu.  
 **xPanther:** Who thought *he* was a good idea.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** ...You did.  
 **xPanther:** I played myself, Shiho.  
 **xPanther:** I played myself so hard.  
 **xPanther:** This is the WORST.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** I thought the shoot went pretty well.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** What brought this on?  
 **xPanther:** Voice.  
 **xPanther:** His *voice*, Shiho.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** ...Ohhhh.  
 **xPanther:** And he *smirks.*  
 **xPanther:** While saying stuff with his voice.  
 **xPanther:** And one day, I think he's gonna laugh, and I'm gonna die.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** It is a pretty nice voice.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** It suits him.  
 **xPanther:** And his EYES.  
 **xPanther:** Up close.  
 **xPanther:** Without the glasses.  
 **xPanther:** Who gave him the right to look like that.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** They're kind of stunning, aren't they.  
 **xPanther:** You're telling me...  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** He's a natural model, too.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Both in looks and in personality.  
 **xPanther:** It's like... naughty nerd chic or something.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Poetic.  
 **xPanther:** Ugh.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** I agree, you know.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** I thought we should start off slow, so I sent you the milder shots to post. The rest... they're really something.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** He's downright debonair in most of them.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** I swear, all that charm needs a warning label. ~Steal your heart~ or something.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Or 'something.'  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Those smirks do fit his face very, very well. I'm sure he'd be welcome to steal a few... *other* things as well.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** At least from anyone who looks at him for more than five seconds or so.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** He's *sexy.*  
 **xPanther:** Shiho.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Really, I can't blame you for wanting to climb him like a tree.  
 **xPanther:** *Shiho.*  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** He's just terrible.  
 **xPanther:** *So are you.*  
 **xPanther:** Oh geez... If today's what it's gonna be like from here on out...  
 **xPanther:** I'm gonna die.  
 **xPanther:** I don't WANT to die.  
 **xPanther:** I'm only 16.  
 **xPanther:** That's too young to die.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** So... I take it you don't want the full album from today.  
 **xPanther:** ...  
 **xPanther:** Hand it over.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** But I thought you didn't want to die.  
 **xPanther:** HAND IT OVER.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** :3   
**volleyballsysnaps:** [Sent xpanther-05-06-2020-all.zip (327.4MB)]  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Enjoy~

* * *

...So, multiple instances of heart failure aside, that hadn't gone too badly, Akira thought.

Getting back to Leblanc was kind of weird, because usually laying facedown on his bed and not moving worried Morgana immensely. His cat was back at home, and here in Tokyo, just being left to lie there without paws batting at his hair or insistent meowing in his ear was downright strange.

Seeing himself posing next to x_panther when he opened Instagram Sunday evening was _far_ stranger.

They didn't look half-bad together, actually.

Shiho had chosen one of his first solo shots, then another four with Ann—a back-to-back shot with them holding matching roses and wearing matching black and grey outfits; one where he was sitting on his heels in the hoodie and she was blowing bubblegum in the minidress; one where she was on the couch with her legs crossed and a book in her hand while he was leaned over the back to read over her shoulder; and one where they were just standing side by side, the silver stitching on his black jacket mirroring the black stitching on her silver shrug.

(He couldn't help but be a little disappointed that those were really the best shots out of that entire session, what with how relatively boring they were, but those two knew best. He was just here to sit still and look pretty.)

And that... sure was _him_ sitting still and looking pretty. He made it a point to comment on all of x_panther's posts, but...

What the hell was he supposed to say to _this?_

Compliment his own face without being even a _little bit_ sarcastic about it? Not a snowball's chance in hell. Completely ignoring his presence wasn't an option either—the whole point of the post was to introduce him. And he couldn't exactly come forward as, well, himself.

The like count ticked up much slower than it normally did, comments scrolling by in his peripheral vision, and still he couldn't think of anything that he could possibly say. He tapped the heart button through a fog, numbly flipping through the pictures again and again.

He ended up staring sightlessly at the last picture in the slideshow for long enough that his phone autolocked, then he set it on the windowsill and decided to go to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Ann was frowning at her own phone when he got to school the next day, corners of her mouth pinched in worry, but the moment she caught sight of him, her face broke into x_panther's signature beaming smile, and Akira's heart skipped a beat or three.

Kissing her, he reminded himself, would be a very bad idea.

(At least here and now.)

(And _that_ was another thought to shelve and not touch for a long, long, long while. Preferably forever.)

"Everything okay?" he asked as he took his seat behind her, mouth tingling ever-so-slightly.

"Huh?" Her big, liquid blue eyes blinked once or twice, then her expression cleared. Sheepishly, she said, "Yeah, everything's great! Just..."

He waited.

Wry and self-deprecating, she continued, "Well, it's not like I didn't expect this response, but watching it is still kinda..."

Ahh...

"It'll be okay," he said, as reassuringly as he could. "It's for your portfolio, right? Your agency will approve. Your real fans will be okay with it. It'll work out."

For some reason, that seemed to catch her off guard. The self-deprecation faded first, then the wryness, leaving only a dangerously vulnerable look behind. "...You're right." Then she (god forbid) giggled. "Thank you, Akira."

"No problem," he said, because actually physically melting onto his desk wasn't exactly an option here.

Then the teacher came in and Ann looked away and he _could_ slump at his desk and zone out—so he did. Immediately.

* * *

It was all distracting enough that he'd almost completely forgotten about Mr. Kamoshida and the girls'... strange relationship with him.

Something he was resoundingly reminded of when he walked out of the classroom to get his lunch from the canteen and came upon Ann speaking with Mr. Kamoshida.

Or, rather, it would be more accurate to say that Mr. Kamoshida was speaking with Ann.

Akira didn't think he'd _ever_ seen Ann look that tired and miserable before.

Jumping in was just a natural consequence of things, you know? Nothing at all to do with the sudden, wild urge to deck Kamoshida in his smug square-ass face.

"Oh, hey," he said to Ann, aiming for a somewhat normal smile. "You're still here?"

Ann stopped looking tired and miserable for long enough to stare at him like he'd just announced that they were all robots and the moon was the property of Big Bang Burger.

It was a vast improvement.

"Uh, yeah..." There was something that was _almost_ a question mark at the end of the sentence.

Akira went on to nod at Mr. Kamoshida like he'd just noticed him. "Oh, Coach. Hello."

To which Mr. Kamoshida only smiled back and raised his hand in greeting, because subtly threatening Akira was only in vogue when the only people to witness were fellow troublemakers.

"Shiho was just wondering where you are," he continued, a little too loud, a little too cavalier, turning back to Ann and lying through his teeth. "Did you have business with Mr. Kamoshida?"

Ann automatically shook her head, still baffled.

"Ah, Kurusu—I was just offering to drive Takamaki here to her next photoshoot," Mr. Kamoshida broke in, either not seeing or ignoring the look of defeat and discomfort that crossed Ann's face at the words. "It's dangerous for a girl to go out alone so late, you know."

Akira was very good at not punching people. He really, really was.

"Oh, really?" Pockets were the safest places for his hands. It was a good thing he had a couple. "I'll go with her if she's worried." He smiled a little harder against the bile rising in his throat. "You really shouldn't trouble yourself over your students so much, Sensei. I know you don't mean anything by it, but someone might get the wrong idea."

Kamoshida had that flatly pleasant look he got whenever Akira pissed him off in public. "No offense, Kurusu, but do you really think she'd be any _safer_ around—"

Akira was already moving past him, gesturing Ann along with a tilt of his head. "Come on, Ann. Shiho must be getting worried about us."

(The names were a pointed intimacy—one that Kamoshida didn't miss, if the sharp glare was anything to go by.)

"Oh, uh, y-yeah," she stammered, still caught off guard, and shifted her weight, relaxing the death grip she'd had on the handles of her schoolbag. "C-coming."

"Hey—" Kamoshida started, but Akira cut him off.

"Sorry, Sensei. We're already kind of late, so..." He waved Ann in front of him so he could edge in between her and Kamoshida. Then, as apologetically as he could manage, he finished with, "You know how it goes. Later."

As they walked away, a trio of students on the stairwell burst into a flurry of whispers.

He dropped the forced smile and looked at them as he and Ann passed.

They froze like rabbits, every drop of color draining from their faces.

He moved on.

(He'd gotten used to the reaction, but he ruefully acknowledged that if his old classmates could see him now, they'd be laughing their asses off.)

"Um," said Ann, uncertain, as they arrived on the first floor and turned towards the courtyard.

He glanced at her.

He expected something along the lines of _what the hell was that_ , or maybe _did you mean it_ if he was lucky or _why'd you interrupt_ if he wasn't, not—"You only smile when you're acting, don't you?"

He blinked once, twice, then admitted, "...I can be pushed to it."

He could see the parade of emotion flit across her face—sheepishness, relief, cheer, then back to happy equilibrium. (How anyone could stand to make her sad when she wore her heart on her sleeve like this was beyond him.) "That's good."

"Good?"

"Oh, well, not _good_ -good," she backpedaled, glancing at him anxiously, then sighing. "Shiho sent me the full photoshoot album from Saturday, and you were smiling in almost all the pictures— _way_ more than you ever smile in school. I was kinda worried you weren't happy here."

Oh.

"And... I know your circumstances aren't the _best_ around, especially to start with, but it seemed like you'd found a place with Ryuji and Mishima-kun, so..."

There was something caught in his throat that refused to be swallowed away. _She noticed that?_

She ducked slightly so she could study him from below, quietly concerned and unconsciously coquettish, the look and the sentiment alike sending a flood of butterflies through his stomach. _"Are_ you happy here?"

His mouth answered for him. "Of course I am. You're here."

She froze for two seconds, eyes going wide and cheeks going pink, then coughed out, "Eck! Wh-wh-wh-what—?! I-I'm. _What?"_

...Oops.

She continued to splutter _adorably_ for a few more seconds (squeaky and flustered and maybe a little bit happy and _oops_ ), then faltered, then narrowed her eyes at him. "...You're a smooth-talker, aren't you."

"I can be pushed to it."

(She'd _noticed him._ Had thought his circumstances weren't the best, instead of just desserts for being a criminal. Had _noticed_ when he stumbled into befriending Ryuji and Yuuki. Sure, most of the kids in this school knew who he was, but Ann had—)

A not-smile stretched her mouth as her eyes flitted away, half amused and half dry. "You know, out of all the things the rumors said you could be pushed to... I don't think 'smooth-talking' came up even once."

"Goes to show how much they know."

He hadn't really meant anything by it, but Ann looked up sharply, an odd expression on her face. The pity there was almost expected, but the sympathy and _empathy_ were _not._

"It doesn't bother me," he felt compelled to offer. And they didn't, not anymore. Ryuji and Yuuki—and now Ann and Shiho—were willing to look past the record and the rumors, and that... that was enough. "In their defense... I'm not exactly a smiler."

She inhaled, almost looking like she wanted to argue, then sighed and shook the thought away at his wry glance, blonde pigtails following the motion.

"Well, don't worry." She brightened; a wink, a wave of her pointer finger, and she said, "Even if you're not a smiler, one day I'll figure out how to tell _exactly_ what you're feeling, promise!"

At the moment he mostly just felt like crowding her against the wall kissing that horribly expressive face until she forgot how to breathe, so it was probably a good thing that 'one day' was not today.

"...It's a promise."

He delivered her to Shiho without incident, then retreated back to the haunt he shared with Ryuji and Yuuki.

Then he pulled out his phone, fired off a text to Ann to let her know that he really _was_ willing to be her guard dog if she wanted company at the shoot, and opened up Instagram.

Remembering the incident with Kamoshida (the tightness around Ann's downcast eyes, the grip she had on her bag—) left him with a buzz of irritation under his skin, and remembering this morning, he knew _exactly_ who he could take it out on.

* * *

Left to her own devices, the very first thing Ann did was check Instagram.

Thumbing through the comments on her most recent post, she took stock of the response. Some squeals ( _gurl i'm screaminG WHERE DID U FIND HIM???_ ), some yells ( _panther-chan, don't get sucked in by this guy! he's obviously bad news!!! TAT_ ), some anger ( _I didn't come to stare at some asshole's ugly mug lmao. He'd better not show up again or I'm unfollowing._ ), some professional comments ( _Shinko's spring line! Not what I expected to find here, but you two pulled it off. Nice job!_ ), some spam ( _Visit our profile to find hot & sexy MILFs just begging for company!_), and...

"Still nothing?"

Still no word from fools.arcana.

The longer this went on, the more amusement made its way into Shiho's sympathetic wince.

Ann caught up to the place she'd left off in her last perusal of the comment section and jumped back to the top of the queue, glancing over the new usernames and sighing.

"What if Joker really _did_ unfollow me?" she wondered aloud, sinking back into the bench. Her oldest follower, definitely her most consistently supportive, and...

There wasn't even any response to the multitudes of tags he'd gotten from some of her other longtime followers.

_What if Joker had blocked her?_

She sank her teeth into the inside of the corner of her mouth. "What if this was the last straw? What if..."

She trailed off as a notification popped up at the top of her screen.

 **Akira:** I only said I'd go with you to get Mr. Kamoshida off your back, but my evening is free if you want to take me up on it.

"...'Get Mr. Kamoshida off your back'?" Shiho echoed, reading over her shoulder as the tension in Ann's chest just... _loosened._

"Mmm..." said Ann, mentally prodding at the strange feeling. "Mr. Kamoshida wanted to take me to tonight's shoot. Akira interrupted, told him you were looking for me. Said he'd go with me instead if I was worried." Closing the chat program, she absently continued, "Thanks for sending him, by the way! You really saved my bacon."

She looked up to find Shiho blinking at her, bewildered.

"I... didn't say a thing to him."

"...Oh."

And that... that was another strange feeling. That had definitely been a rescue. It couldn't have been anything _but_ a rescue. That he'd done completely unbidden—and it involved going directly against _Mr. Kamoshida_ , no less.

And she hadn't even _thanked_ him.

She thought about accepting his offer (maybe she could take him out to get crepes or something at the diner—her treat), but then remembered that the director had warned them that the shoot might run late and the other girls had agreed to carpool and ended up sending:

 **xPanther:** Not today, but thanks for the offer.  
 **xPanther:** And thanks for the save, too. I'll treat you to lunch sometime, okay?

There was a pause, then:

 **Akira:** I look forward to it.

...And so was Ann, actually. She hadn't truly made a new friend in forever—not since Shiho, and that was back in middle school.

This time, the smile that put on her face lasted even after she opened Instagram and tabbed back to her newest post. Joker was probably still absent, but...

 **jellywoods** nice to see you back _@fools.arcana_ we missed you~♥

Or... not.

Telling herself she was a little less eager than she actually was, Ann scrolled down.

The first comment she found was directed at the 'ugly mug' commenter— **fools.arcana** _@cooler_n.u1443_ If you don't like that one, you could try this one instead.

—After which was an imgur link to a picture of a coffee cup printed with the words, _Is this coffee bitter, or is it just you?_

Ann let out a strangled _pfft_ noise that was part amusement, but mostly overwhelming relief.

Joker hadn't blocked her.

As she watched, fools.arcana continued to comment, seemingly going through the tags they'd gotten.

The next one was in reply to the 'bad news' guy— **fools.arcana** _@freakk.sho.w_ Chill on the snap judgements. Panther can take care of herself.

Then, in response to another comment she hadn't seen— **fools.arcana** _@333x2hellion_ Bold of you to assume that anything could impair Panther's beauty.

 **fools.arcana** _@shii_saaaa_ Please take your idiocy somewhere else.  
 **fools.arcana** _@damian.harper_ ...Really? *Really?* Don't trip over those clown shoes on your way out.  
 **fools.arcana** _@__lucyfarro__ Why are you even here? Get a life.  
 **sweetiebelselene** _@fools.arcana_ you'e on a roll, something happen today? :(  
 **fools.arcana** _@sweetiebelselene_ Bold of you to assume I have days.  
 **sweetiebelselene** _@fools.arcana_ :(  
 **damian.harper** _@fools.arcana_ u wont when IM through with u lol  
 **fools.arcana** _@sweetiebelselene_ I'm fine, promise.  
 **fools.arcana** _@damian.harper_ ;)

Ann let out a raspy laugh as she leaned her weight against Shiho, who was reading over her shoulder again.

"You were really worried about that, huh," said Shiho.

"I'd miss this if Joker left."

Shiho watched as fools.arcana made another comment— _Please leave the tomfoolery to the real fools. You're making the rest of us look bad._ —and huffed a laugh of her own. "You know? So would I."

Then, once the moment had passed, she asked, "So... what exactly happened with Kurusu-san and Coach Kamoshida?"

* * *

Akira spent most of lunch break on Instagram just replying to comments, other familiar faces greeting him like he'd been gone for a week instead of sixteen hours. To be fair, he was usually the first to retort to commenters like... _that_ , but couldn't a guy sleep? It was a _school night._

It was just before he headed back to class (hungry, because he'd forgotten to buy his bread) that he bothered to check his texts.

... _Someone_ had had something to say.

 **volleyballsysnaps:** Good afternoon, Kurusu-san.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** I wanted to know what day would be best for your next fitting.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Kuroki-san favors Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays in the afternoon.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** It's too early to tell for sure, but it looks like your help is helping. Thanks for agreeing to stick with us.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** And for helping Ann with Mr. Kamoshida. He's not good at taking a 'no' at the best of times, but with Ann, it always seems to get worse.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Please be careful around him. I doubt he'll have taken this well, either.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Back on a business note: are you free on Thursday for a shoot? It would be good if we could finish up with this set before Kuroki-san finishes up with the next.  
 **Akira Kurusu:** In order: Good afternoon, Suzui-san. Wednesday. No problem. I'm glad she's okay. I will. Yes.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Please, call me Shiho.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** See you Thursday. :)

And that was that.

Akira blinked.

Oh... 'kay then.


	6. Chapter 6

From what Ann had told her, Shiho had guessed that the rumors would be flying about what had happened between Kurusu-san (Akira? Akira) and Coach Kamoshida.

This was a bit earlier than she expected, though.

"God, who bit Coach's balls? I swear _half_ of us are gonna be in special training if this keeps up."

"Oh, didn't you hear—?"

She usually let the locker room talk float over her head, but this was worth tuning into. She was still rewrapping her bad leg anyway.

 _"Kurusu?!"_ spluttered the first girl, Tako. "With _Takamaki?!"_

The second girl, Ushira, snorted and muttered, "If anyone deserves Kurusu hitting on their girl, it's definitely Coach." Then she rolled her eyes at Tako's scandalized and slightly terrified gape. "I just wish he didn't take it out on _us."_

Komishi joined the conversation with a click of her tongue, silky black hair spilling over her back as she removed her shirt. "Right? We're _innocent._ At least he could take it out on the skank."

Shiho's hands stilled on her wrap, teeth clenching against the spike of fury.

"Ugh. _Please,"_ groaned Tako as she rolled out her shoulder. "Is _one_ day if rest too much to ask for? _God,_ I hate that bitch."

"I dunno, guys," said Ushira, laced with just enough spite that Shiho's hands were already tingling for a punch. "I mean, I hate her as much as the next person, but imagine getting hit on by the class _criminal."_ She laughed, strained and tired and vicious. "I actually feel bad for her. For once."

(Unbidden, Shiho remembered the 'the class criminal's' not-smile as he murmured _fatality,_ the quiet _that's good; she's precious,_ the odd tightness around his eyes as he walked Ann to Shiho's bench that afternoon and left without a word.

It... hurt. To hear the bitter ramblings of a few abused and exhausted teenage girls _hurt_ much more than Shiho had expected.)

"If you ask me, they deserve each other," Komishi volunteered, _completely_ unasked. "She's a frigid bitch who uses her body to make _us_ miserable. He's a creep who beats people up for fun. Maybe he'll send her to the hospital and finally get fucking expelled."

It would be a bad idea to get up before her wrap was done, Shiho reminded herself gently. Best finish it up first. The girls would still be there when she was done.

 _"Komishi!"_ gasped Tako, gaining Shiho's fragile goodwill for all of two seconds before she paused and added, "...Well. Better her than us. Maybe Coach'd finally get over her shitty tits and just fucking _chill."_

Ushira let out a dry _heh_ and sighed, "If only."

Shiho tightened the rest of her wrap with careless jerks and trembling hands, heedless of the pain, and stood up.

"Care to repeat all that?" she said. Well. Demanded, really.

Flickers of guilt-worry-shame crossed their faces—all squashed under bitter resentment and reflexive derision.

"Sure thing, pet," said Komishi, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she turned back to her locker. "We were just talking about how _amazing_ Takamaki is and how _lucky_ you are to be _friends_ with her."

"Bullshit."

Komishi snorted. "You're not very bright, are you."

"Mmm," said Shiho. Directly disagreeing with Komishi never went well for anyone. Better to just say, "Good thing I have volleyball, then."

Komishi sent her a sharp look.

Shiho tried and failed to summon a smile.

Outside, the stand-in referee whistled the changeover.

Thanks to her shoddy wrapping job, she only got in seven _real_ spikes before the stand-in referee called her on it.

 _Suzui!_ then, _Stop aiming for the face!_ then, finally, _I don't care **what** they said, our team can't play with three broken noses!_ and Shiho was forced to back down.

Despite that, she managed to summon a smile by the time the girls left, staggering off the gym floor spitting curses.

As brutal as her favorite sport could get, it certainly was good stress relief.

* * *

Ann was looking forward to and dreading Thursday in equal measure.

Upsides: On Thursday, she'd get to spend real quality time with her new acquaintance-almost-friend, instead of just snatched greetings and half-conversations between breaks.

Downsides: On Thursday, she'd be spending a great deal of quality time in close contact with someone she wanted to be in close contact with a _little too much._

And she _still_ hadn't thanked him.

It was with that thought that she stopped by the courtyard vending machines on her way back from eating her lunch with Shiho on Wednesday.

She waffed a little over the choices, then remembered that he'd been buying Arginade the very first time they'd spoken, and ordered that with some amount of confidence. She couldn't stand the stuff, but it was almost always nearly sold out every time she saw it, so that must count for something.

Thankfully he was already sitting at his desk when she walked back into the classroom, eyes dimmed and bored beneath thick black eyelashes as he stared at his phone.

And maybe it was wishful thinking or maybe she really _was_ starting to read him better, but she thought maybe he brightened up when he saw her.

"So..." She fiddled with the chilly can behind her back. "I still haven't paid you back..."

Slate grey eyes went rabbit-fur grey, softening as he looked at her. "Don't worry about it."

(The best and worst part of talking to Akira— _that voice._ The timbre of it stroked and _resonated_ down her spine.)

Feeling a couple degrees warmer than she'd been before he opened his mouth, she said, "Of course I'm gonna worry about it." She was mildly insulted (and mildly pleased) that he could suggest otherwise. Then, before she could read an almost-smile into his impassive face, she plunked the can down on his desk. "Here."

He looked at the can, the back at her with a mild blink.

"It's not much," she acknowledged, cheeks heating, "but..."

He picked it up and popped the tab, eyes fluttering shut as he took a slow draft.

Ann tangled her fingers and tightened them in nerves. Glancing at him sideways (she couldn't quite bring herself to look at him dead on), she guessed, "Your favorite?"

That was more hope and optimism than anything, but he lowered the can, cracking open one eye as the corner of his mouth lifted in an expression that didn't look even a little bit fake—"It is now."

There was an implication there that she missed because she was too busy with the amount of blood rushing to her face, but she still managed a hiccuping laugh and a, "You'll have to tell me your real favorite next time."

(A wisp of a thought suggested that she might have a different opinion of Agrinade if she bent down and tasted it now, but she batted the idea away as quick as she could.)

He hummed noncommittally, then Ms. Chouno walked in, and Ann had to duck into her seat.

* * *

For as much as she'd been agonizing over the modeling shoot on Thursday, you'd have _thought_ that she'd thought about her outfit.

Oh, sure, she had it picked out, but that was... before. Before she'd spent more than ten minutes in Akira's presence. She'd laid out and matched up all the outfits that they were going to do in order, and then promptly forgot about them.

It wasn't like her circumstances were any different now—they were still doing collaboration shots to round out her portfolio, this was still a work arrangement, they still had a set list of outfits they were doing together—but... her circumstances were _kiiiinda_ different now. Just a little bit.

She knew what Akira's voice sounded like now, for one. And she was starting to get a sense for the things he tended to say with that voice, for another.

Which left her holding a tight red tanktop and layered black miniskirt with something like consternation.

If their last session had been anything to go by, then there was going to be a lot of physical contact, and if this _outfit_ was anything to go by, then that meant that there was going to be a lot of skin-to-skin contact as a result.

Not really something she _normally_ cared about on the job, but...

The doorbell chimed, and Ann huffed. _Curse of the Jeopardy buzzer._

"Hey, Shiho, could you get that?" she shouted over her shoulder, shucking her clothing in a hurry.

_"Got it!"_

Ann had grown into a master of the art of the switch over the years, and even changing her bra into something lacier and less well-loved didn't slow her down for long. She was hopping out the door in less than a minute, snatching up a leather bolero on her way out.

* * *

Shiho, thankfully, had _not_ been privy to the outfits Ann had chosen for herself to match Akira's, so she was spared the teasing and the knowing smirk when she greeted Akira at the door.

Less thankfully, the shirt Akira was wearing when he stepped into the work room was not the black tee from Kenzo that he was supposed to be wearing.

No. It was still black, but instead of Kenzo's lion, it was printed with black and red and white magazine cut-out text that spelled _TAKE YOUR HEART_.

And she couldn't even argue against its inclusion.

They still matched. It fitted the punk theme of this set. It suited that mischevious look of his _criminally_ well. It wasn't tailored, but the difference was subtle enough to pass.

Ann wondered where he'd gotten it for all of three seconds before Shiho came forward as the culprit.

"Sorry Ann," she said, definitely sounding more satisfied than sorry. It was a little hard to see her face in the artificial darkness behind their amateur modeling set, but it didn't hide her complete lack of remorse. "I couldn't resist."

Ann looked Akira over one last time—black combat boots, black cargo pants decorated with an assortment of (largely useless) silver zippers and chains, stiff black blazer of a similar style that left his forearms bare and framed his jawline with a high collar, scarlet gloves that ended at the wrist, the shirt paired with that _face_ —and tried to sigh away the tingling in her belly.

It didn't work.

He looked like the _best_ kind of trouble.

"Well, warn me next time," she conceded. Not that it would help, but it was the principal of the thing.

They both nodded, Akira somehow managing to look much more contrite than Shiho even past the lack of expression, then someone's phone buzzed.

It wasn't Ann's and Shiho left hers on silent, so it was Akira fishing a device out of his pocket and checking the screen.

Ann took a second to glare daggers into the side of Shiho's head.

Shiho flashed her an angelic smile.

Ann narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

Shiho folded her arms, a little jerk of the chin and knowing quirk of her eyebrow very clearly saying, _but I'm right._

Ann found herself mirroring the pose, gesturing to her co-model with an emphatic flourish of one hand. It wasn't that Shiho was _wrong,_ but really! They were supposed to be prompting _Kenzo!_ Not Shiho's favorite tee printing shop.

Abruptly, Ann realized that Akira was looking at them both in confusion, long eyelashes framing almond-shaped eyes and no lenses to obscure the view, the long, elegant fingers of his bare right hand poised above the touchscreen and gloved red ones curled around the silver casing.

He really did have _very_ nice hands. Both with and without gloves.

He tilted his head.

_Oh, shoot._

Catching up to her own train of thought, Ann giggled nervously, cheeks prickling with heat and her own fingers wiggling in a helpless, awkward half-wave.

He blinked at her, almost surprised, then looked blankly down at his phone, then used that stupidly attractive hand to gesture towards the door, turned, and did a little one-two step to avoid the door frame before exiting.

Ann pursed her lips again and glanced at Shiho.

Shiho shrugged.

...Okay then!

* * *

Standing under the stark lighting of the stage, Ann tried not to think about the proximity heat of Akira beside her as she waited for Shiho's instructions.

Shiho fiddled with the buttons of her camera, content to let Ann stew in her avoidance, close enough to smiling that Ann suspected it was intentional.

(Maybe the volleyball team's workload had been lighter or something, but Ann could swear that she'd been... _brighter_ with Akira joining them during these past two sets. It made sense for Ann that she would have fun working with a new person—combination shoots were always about chemistry, and she and Akira had spades of it—but it hadn't occurred to her that maybe Shiho felt the same way.

Huh.)

The silence went on for long enough for Ann to start fidgeting—swinging her arms got her skirt to rustle against her bare thighs and Akira to glance sideways at her, which was enough of an invitation for Ann to swing her hips and tap her lips, which made the corner of his mouth twitch, which—

Felt like a victory somehow.

Huh.

"Alright," said Shiho, apparently having set up her camera to her satisfaction, "Akira, face the wall; Ann, get in front of him and face this way, back-to-back. Let's say... you guys are keeping a secret, and that secret is Akira."

A click of the shutter and—"Akira, turn around, put an arm around her shoulders... yeah."

Ann had a split second of wondering when Shiho had moved from 'Kurusu-san' to 'Akira,' and then his warm breath was teasing her ear and his jacket was scraping the back of her neck and Ann was effectively distracted.

 _"That's_ a good look," Shiho said, a lilting sort of smile in her voice as the shutter clicked again.

Ann glanced at Akira in surprise.

He drew back, a cocksure smirk on his face that _sparked_ something in Ann.

She pressed her lips together in a pout, folding her arms.

Another click and—wait, what? No prompt?

Ann's confusion lasted exactly as long as it took for Akira to shift his weight and mirror her pose, the inner side of his combat boot scraping the outside of her her hi-top sneaker, and then she kind of _had_ to admire the picture he made.

She set her hand on her hip, eyes scanning him from head to toe and an appreciative smile tugging at her mouth, and—

_Click._

"You're doing great," Shiho praised, half-laughing.

Ann wanted to point out that she wasn't doing _anything,_ but Akira took another step away and flourished a bow for the camera, and if Ann stopped to complain, she'd _lose._

She tossed a wink and blew a kiss to the camera, acknowledging the praise with a cheeky confidence that she rarely felt, and that earned an _actual_ laugh from Shiho—which had Ann preening and Akira grinning a challenge at her through his lashes.

Ann puffed her chest and locked her fingers behind her back and slyly grinned right back— _challenge accepted._

"And your prompt this time is 'thug life'!"

Her immediate 'yo' gesture was matched by Akira's, shoulders bumping as they simultaneously leaned into each other, back to back, and then Shiho wasn't the only one giggling, but Ann too, the butterflies of surprise and delight bubbling in her throat.

Akira looked inordinately pleased with himself.

(Or maybe just 'ordinately.' She was pretty sure that if she ever managed to make him feel the way she did at that moment, she might as well consider her life as peaked, an achievement never to be surpassed.)

A few more silly directions led into Akira asking for a dance that she accepted, but still felt the need to point out that they didn't have any music _for_ dancing.

To which he winked and said, "Then we'll just make our own."

She wondered if he knew that was a line directly out of one of her favorite movies, then decided that he probably didn't, because the delivery wasn't so much _romance_ as it was half a step to the left of innuendo.

(That didn't stop it from working, though.)

It rapidly became obvious that neither of them knew how to dance, and then, just as rapidly, it became obvious that it didn't matter. A half of a waltz met a third of a samba and got twisted into a spin and a dip, Akira supporting her with effortless, elastic strength as she kicked high and wrapped herself up close, strong hands under cloth gloves, laughter bouncing and bubbling in time with a beat neither of them could hear.

Shiho let them do their thing until Ann tripped over her own two feet and faceplanted into his chest.

"We should probably get the couch," she said then, amused.

The words echoed between Ann's ears—Akira's racing pulse was thrumming against her cheek, the heat of his body and scratch of the print paired with the smell of starch and linen and skin and soap. His arms had automatically snapped around her torso to catch her, two gloved fingertips hot against the skin of her back where her shirt had ridden up.

 _ **He's** hot,_ joined Shiho's words rattling around in her empty skull.

All eight of those words vanished like smoke when he ducked, wrapped his arms under her thighs, and plucked her clear off the ground.

Ann _shrieked._

She clutched at his head, soft black fluff in her fingers contrasting with the hard skull bumping into the bottom of her ribcage, vertigo-struck and winded and—was he laughing?

Not quite. More like a series of soft huffing noises that never truly reached his voice, for which Ann was grateful and... not-so-grateful.

(Plus... there was skin rubbing against her bare thighs, forearms supporting her weight and one of those gloves sliding dangerously, _dangerously_ close to the hem of her skirt, and this was the worst, the very very very worst time and place to think about how very much she wanted the touch of them _all over her,_ but her traitorous mind had never stopped to ask her for permission before, so why would it start now?)

And then Akira jostled her to get a better grip, and they were moving.

He carried her over to the couch and, with a heart-stopping drop that had her shrieking all over again, dumped her over the arm and onto the cushions.

The shriek trailed off into another fit of adrenaline-mandated giggles, her head swimming and body sprawled gracelessly where she'd been thrown, one of her heels kicked up over the back and the other trailing on the ground.

"You're the worst," she informed him breathlessly, swatting her skirt back into some semblance of decency.

Gripping the arm of the couch, the one he'd just tossed her over, and throwing his weight into dragging it backwards onto the set, he just winked, his smug smile a very feline brand of unrepentant.

Deciding that that was probably as much as she'd get from him, Ann stretched herself out with a sigh, rubbing her thighs together and arching like a cat.

Normally she'd insist on helping, but right now it felt oddly luxurious to just lie there, taking in the movement of the frame under her and the way she was tingling all over with fluttering energy and phantom touch.

When she opened her eyes again, Akira's smug smile had frozen, his gaze startled and sharpened and... dark?

Ann hummed a curious noise in the back of her throat, filing the electric _zap_ that look was giving her away for later.

Whatever that look was, he tucked it away quick, features smoothing back into their previous, lighter state. "Enjoying the ride?"

She plunked her heels between his hands on the arm of the couch, crossing them at the ankle and folding her own arms behind her head. "You know it!"

That got another silent, amused huff, and then Akira finished dragging them both onto the set.

"We should get a few shots with the couch, and then switch outfits," Shiho said. She'd removed her camera from the tripod and was clicking through the reel, following their progress with her body, rather than her attention. "We still have a few more of those."

"Gotcha," Ann sighed as she flopped over the edge, the shock of her shoes hitting the floor reverberating pleasantly through her system.

She hopped up, shaking out her skirt and fluffing her pigtails, and then moved over to catch the other arm, Shiho absently clearing her throat while Ann ducked down to disentangle a cord from under one of the couch's feet.

When she'd kicked the cord aside and stood up again, Shiho was still staring down at the screen of her camera, but this time with a look that was... undoubtedly a smirk.

The resident smirker, on the other hand, was narrowing his eyes at their photographer in a look that was undoubtedly a _glare._

"Uh," said Ann.

Both heads instantly swiveled in her direction, butter-wouldn't-melt expressions flawless.

"Shhhhould we get started then?" she ventured cautiously.

"Sure thing," said Shiho, while Akira's innocence faded into something that looked a little more real.

_...Okay then._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! double update and unfortunately the last update, at least for a while :(
> 
> not gonna lie, royal kinda killed so much of my enjoyment and love for this fandom, and it's been legit heartbreak trying to make akirann work with me when my brain keeps going "lol you know kasumi won, right?" at me all the time. 
> 
> i'm hoping and praying that a little distance will help me come back to this, but i'm not going to try until 2021, at least.
> 
> sorry guys, and thank you for sticking with me. you've all been the absolute best. <3

Three changes of clothes later, and Shiho could officially declare this a very successful shoot.

Successful, and, well...

_Interesting._

With _many_ results that she probably couldn't send to Ann to post.

One one of her favorites was one of the last: Akira was slouched on the couch, one arm thrown over the back and his lazy hedonist's smile aimed at Ann alone. The other arm was held out to steady Ann's thigh, red-gloved hand only just high enough to scrunch up the hem of her little black dress. Ann, leaning over him with her arms braced on either side of his head, was matching his confidence drop for drop, switching laziness for audacity and nonchalance for heat.

It was a beautiful shot with a _gorgeous_ angle that she'd totally lucked out on... and there was no way it could be posted to x_panther.

It was _really_ too bad. Shiho had had _fun_ getting them into those poses.

The shoot had been interesting for plenty more reasons than that, though.

She'd dismissed Akira's odd little swallow when he'd first seen Ann bouncing down the stairs, because swallowing was just something humans did sometimes. She'd only half-noticed his _almost_ flummoxed reaction to Ann's little wave there at the beginning, and that was only because Ann herself had noticed it. She'd completely skipped over the admiring glances he'd given Ann because, well. _Ann._

And then she'd spent about hour hours watching the two of them very closely through a camera lens.

By the time they'd gotten to the little black dress, instructing Akira to slide his hand just _a little bit higher_ up Ann's thigh had been only _somewhat_ for the resulting aesthetic.

He. Hadn't. Blushed. Once.

Not once! During that whole session! Barely a flinch! Only passing moments of distraction, none of which lasted long enough to affect his face. His hands never shook, the smirk never faltered, he'd never been reduced to awkward squirming...

The only indication that his crush was crawling all over him in a miniskirt was the way his eyes occasionally glazed over; even the way he glanced at-then-away from her thighs before she could catch him would have looked casual and accidental if not for how often it happened.

It was kind of impressive, really.

"See you guys at school tomorrow!" Ann chirped as Shiho and Akira walked down the Takamaki's front walk together.

"Later," Shiho bid her with a smile and a wave, Akira nodding in her peripheral vision.

Ann tripped over her own two feet in the process of closing the door, poking her head around the heavy oak to flash them a sheepish smile and a wiggle of her fingers before shutting it completely.

If Shiho were alone, she would have snorted to herself and left. If Shiho were alone, however, there would be no opportunity to watch and see how her new coworker reacted to that, so she waited instead.

Akira spent a solid three seconds just staring at the door, impassive as ever, then seemed to realize that she was still there. He then looked down at her and tilted his head in the direction of the gate.

Smiling, she went, and he followed her without a word.

"So that was an interesting shoot today, wasn't it?" she murmured to him as she passed through the gate.

"'Interesting'?" he echoed softly—warily, she'd like to think—as he pulled it shut behind them.

"It's been a while since I've seen Ann that cheerful," she continued blithely, leading the way to the station. "She really likes having you around."

The streetlight reflected off his lenses as he glanced down at her. "...I like being here," he finally ventured.

"I noticed," she agreed, airy.

She wouldn't have noticed the slight hitch in his step if they hadn't been walking, but they were, and she did.

_Vic~to~ry._

When it didn't seem like he had anything to add, she went on, "Some of those shots turned out... intense."

"I was just following orders," he said, sounding very bland indeed. There was no hitch in his step this time, sadly.

"Quite well, too," she said. "You're a natural."

"...Thank you."

She hummed her response and let the ensuing silence stretch for a bit, pondering.

It wasn't that nothing was getting to him, she decided, just that he was good at hiding it.

And he was _good,_ but not _perfect._

Hmm... Maybe...

_Aha._

"While we're on the topic..." She pulled out her phone, fishing her portable card reader out of her bag and her camera's memory card with it. She usually left the camera itself at Ann's—it was way safer there than it was at her house. "Want me to send you the full album from today?"

He stayed quiet for long enough for her to hook the card reader up to her phone and open the most recent folder, then dryly said, "I'll... pass."

"Really?" She thumbed through the gallery, looking for that one _particular_ picture. "The _really_ good shots probably won't make it online..."

"I thought it was your job to choose the best?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"...Well, I choose the best ones for x_panther's image," she admitted ruefully, leading them around the next corner but trusting Akira to keep them on track otherwise. "Those aren't always the _best,_ per se."

"Hm..."

After about a minute of mindless swiping, she found what she was looking for. "Here, I'll send you one as a sample."

Akira glanced sideways at her, at the little twitch of the mouth she couldn't suppress, then turned his gaze back to the street ahead of them.

She hit send.

Three steps later, his phone pinged.

He ignored it.

"...I believe you just received a message," she said, when it became obvious that he was going to ignore it.

"Imagine that."

"It might be important," Shiho pressed. _She wanted to see his reaction, dammit._ "It might even be a really cute picture of Ann."

"I'm sure it can wait."

She narrowed her eyes at the little _Sent at 8:50_ below her text. "You never know," she said delicately. "It could be an emergency."

"Unlikely."

"A text from your mother?" she tried.

"My mother has never once texted me in her life," he replied. "I don't see why she'd start now."

"From... Sakamato-san?"

"He can take care of his own messes."

"Mishima-kun."

Akira tilted his head in thought for a second, then decided, "He'll live."

"That's rather cold of you," she chided, trying not to be amused. Then it abruptly occurred to her that there was only one person she'd ever seen him be _warm_ to, and that was... "It might be from Ann."

A partial flicker of an expression, like he was actually considering it, and then it cleared and he shook his head, just slightly. "Also unlikely."

_So close._

Shiho sighed and stowed her phone away. "Well, if you change your mind about the album, you have my number."

"Duly noted."

She inhaled the chilly night air through her teeth, stretching her arms out high above her head and letting the air out on a sigh. She didn't know what kind of magic Ann had, but these sessions worked better than any of the prescription painkillers stocked in Shiho's bathroom cabinet.

"...Ann's kind of amazing, isn't she?" she mused at the sky.

"Hm," Akira concurred.

"I mean," she continued, letting her arms drop, a pleasant kind of exhaustion weighing them down, "lots of models are pretty, but Ann's just got that _spark,_ you know?"

"She 'wears the clothes.'"

Shiho let out a little _pffft_ noise. "That too."

He glanced at her curiously.

"She's hardworking, and sweet too," she elaborated. "She's one of those people that just... sucks you in and makes you want to stick around. One of those people who can make you feel like you've won a prize just by making her smile."

"Hmm," he said low in his throat, carefully neutral.

Very, very carefully neutral.

...Was she finally getting to him?

She kept talking, attention devoted to the perfectly even rhythms of the boy walking beside her. "It's not a fluke that she's fully employed and has as much success online as she does. She recently broke thirty thousand followers—though, I s'pose it's lower now."

She'd lost close to seven hundred, actually. What had read _30.2k_ now read _29.5k,_ and, as far as she was aware, the number was still dropping. Internet fame was fickle like that. Hopefully those were the people they _wanted_ gone.

 _Ahh, bad train of thought._ He really _had_ been helping them out with this; she shouldn't be reminding him of the negatives.

A quick check revealed no emotional reaction of note.

"Well," she continued more cheerfully, "with your combined talent, I'm sure you'll make the number back up quick."

"I'll do what I can to help," he promised.

"Thank you," she said, really truly _meaning it,_ but also cursing internally as she felt him edge up onto safer ground.

Then a stroke of inspiration hit her.

"Oh, I know what you can do to help!" She ducked forward slightly and glanced at him sideways, the most open smile she could manage fixed to her face.

Akira looked delightfully put off, maybe even borderline alarmed, if she was reading him right.

Shiho was the opposite of discouraged. "You should help Ann with outfit coordination!"

"...Fashion isn't really my forte," he demurred—though, with the way he said it, it sounded less like demurring and more like he smelled the trap.

"And yet you're a model now," she teased. "But I'm sure you don't really need to know _fashion_ to help Ann decide what lipstick looks best on her. Sometimes she asks me whether cherry or mauve would look better and I never know how to answer. I'm sure it would help us _both_ out a lot if you could go with her while she tries them out." She cranked up the innocence as much as she dared. ( _Force him to think about it..._ ) "Gloss or matte? Pink or rose? Ann looks good in them all, but I'm sure you'd have a stronger opinion than either of us." She'd eat her _four hundred thousand_ yen camera if he actually thought about the _color._ "You _are_ a part of our demographic after all."

His face had been going blanker and blanker as she talked, but at the last bit, his step hitched again, just _slightly_ out of rhythm, and Shiho scented blood.

"Your demographic," he echoed _almost_ flatly.

(So there _was_ a button to push there. Now she was getting somewhere!)

"Boys," she said easily. "I know you've noticed, but neither Ann nor I are male. We can only guess so much of what goes on in your minds, you know. Having an _insider_ opinion on what would make Ann the most attractive to guys would be a _huge_ asset."

He didn't answer that. Shiho bit the corner of her mouth against a smirk.

"I know the gloss looks sort of like she's just been kissed, but the matte makes her lips look softer—which would _you_ prefer?"

"Shiho," he said so pleasantly that it was a warning in itself.

"We-e-ell," Shiho drew out, "I guess she's gorgeous either way, huh? No wonder _everyone_ goes nuts for her."

_"Shiho."_

(And _that_ was _exactly_ the response Shiho wanted.)

"Is something wrong, Akira? You look a little... flustered." She couldn't fully suppress the grin any longer. "Maybe even _jealous_...?"

He didn't, not even slightly, but it felt good to _say,_ so.

Long eyelashes dipped as he glanced at her sideways. "Did I ever say you could call me Akira...?"

_She had him._

"Mm..." She pretended to think. "I _think_ it was somewhere between, 'yes, Shiho, I would love the full album,' and 'isn't Ann's taste in cosmetics just the _best,_ Shiho? I could stare at her beautiful face for hours.'"

He eyed her down. "...Not ringing a bell, _Suzui-san."_

She didn't look at him, instead taking her phone out and pretending to check for new messages. "But am I wrong?"

He turned his chin away and declined to answer.

It wasn't long after that before they turned the final corner that led up to the split between her street and the train station.

"Well, I go this way." She flashed him her most angelic smile as she waved. "You have my contact information when you decide."

The second sideways glance he gave her was the kind of look one gave a statue the swore just moved, or a bush they suspected someone was hiding in. He wouldn't need to contact her if he decided against it, and he knew it.

Shiho turned before he could see her smile widen. "See you later, Akira."

"...Bye."

If Shiho was a whistler, she definitely would have whistled her way home.

Spite versus pictures of Ann: which would win?

* * *

One slightly dazed train ride later, Akira got home, up to his attic and then into his bed. He then laid down in a distinctly feline-unendorsed manner and attempted to sleep.

'Attempted' being the keyword here.

Shiho's taunting met the promise-slash-threat of whatever image she'd sent him, her absolute confidence that he wouldn't be able to resist asking for the rest—all of which met the searing memories of what had _triggered_ that taunting, and...

Well.

That was a rabbit hole all of its own.

(She hadn't been wrong about Ann's smile feeling like the best kind of reward; she hadn't been wrong about Ann being the kind of gorgeous and magnetic that could get under just about anyone's skin; she hadn't been wrong about those all those jealous barbs prickling under his skin.

She hadn't said a thing about the sound of Ann's laughter or the way Ann's fingers had felt gripping in his hair and the way Ann's legs had moved under that skirt or the _pure invitation_ of Ann sprawled out over that couch, flushed and happy and _open_ —and that was definitely for the best.)

(Maybe.)

(Probably.)

(Or maybe if she'd said it, he could think of those moments in her voice, and not the _palpable_ memories they were now.)

After _three hours_ of failed meditation and restless turning, he had to concede defeat.

He rolled out of his futon foggy and itchy and _irritated,_ and kicked the chair he kept by the foot of his bed over to the scuffed space beneath the low ceiling beam. Using it as a footstool, he hopped and caught the beam in both hands, then pulled himself up until his chin hovered over the edge. Held for _one, two, three,_ then lowered himself back down to another count of three.

How many reps would it take him to burn through this insomnia?

Time to find out.

* * *

Somewhere between forty and fifty chin-ups, it occurred to him that this might take a while.

(Still beat staring at a wall and trying to ignore his phone, though.)

* * *

 _One hundred_ and _fifty._

Sometimes he considered that _maybe_ he and Ryuji and Yuuki spent too much time in the gym, but he hadn't expected it to take _six sets_ to finally pass out.

Ann caught him with three cans of Arginade and a lone bottle of Mad Bull on his desk the next morning and blanched.

"Are... you okay?"

'Peachy keen,' he almost said, except he didn't have the energy to pull it off right. Saying, 'Yes,' would be a blatant lie, and a plain old, 'No,' might make her worry...

(The stuff on her lips today was something so glossy it looked _wet,_ and despite Shiho's taunting that it looked like she'd 'just been kissed,' he couldn't help thinking that it just looked very... smeary. Like something that would get all over anything (anyone) who happened to touch it—and make a mess of her while they was at it.

That she wasn't a mess _yet_ was a bigger tease than any measly _implications._ )

"Couldn't sleep," he ended up mumbling before he chugged the rest of his second Arginade. Overwhelmingly positive connotations aside, it still tasted absolutely disgusting. "Your friend is terrifying."

"Uh..." she said, like she honestly _didn't know._ She blinked at him (or... at his neck? It was a bit lower than eye-level), then asked, "Shi-... -ho...?"

That demon smile and faux innocence floated through Akira's mind, and while he wasn't _quite_ far gone enough to physically shiver, the emotion was there.

He _still_ hadn't opened his phone.

Reaching for the Mad Bull, he cracked the lid and repeated, "Terrifying."

Long, dark 'lashes fluttered against flawless skin as she processed, then she grew concerned again.

Akira held his breath and drank his Mad Bull.

"Well... okay," she said reluctantly. "Get some sleep soon, okay?"

He lowered the bottle half drunk as the back of his neck and fingertips all tingled with the zap of caffeine hitting his system. "Unlikely," slipped through the cracks in his Ann-filters.

Her mouth pursed in a sad, worried little moue.

_Damn it._

"It was worth it," he said after a moment of kicking himself. He rested his cheek on his fist, tilting his head and half-smiling. "Yesterday was fun. Thank you."

Understatement of the year, but he wasn't sure if he _could_ articulate what that experience had been like for him. Even on two total hours of sleep with his body aching with the workout and subsequent lack of rest, the sight of her worry softening and a responding smile creeping over her face felt like heaven.

The effect was... potent. So potent, in fact, that he could almost fully pay attention during the ensuing class.

(Almost. See: that smile.)

He was vaguely aware that Ann had trailed off into texting about halfway through math, but that was about par the course for her and Ms. Usami was tackling one of the few topics that hadn't made sense in his self-study, so he didn't think much of it.

That is, until Ms. Usami moved on to the next set of formulas and Akira's phone buzzed.

Pulling it out, he found two new messages—one from volleyballsysnaps and one from xPanther.

Unlocking his phone for the first time since he'd left her house last night, he ignored Shiho and opened the ongoing chat with Ann.

 **xPanther:** I'm trying to figure out what Shiho did, but she won't spill.  
 **xPanther:** What did she *do?*  
 **Akira Kurusu:** It's fine.  
 **xPanther:** You don't look very 'fine.'  
 **xPanther:** I know I've said it before, but whatever it was, I'll make it up to you, promise!

At which point last night's brutal workout and more recent intellectual engagement proved to be less effective than he wished they had been, because the sudden invasive memory of her smirk as she caged him against the back of _that damn couch_ still made his stomach jolt and knot.

 **Akira Kurusu:** It's definitely fine.

The line of the shoulders in front of him had drawn up in what he could only gather was upset, then slumped in a silent sigh.

A few more buzzes that didn't have anything to do with him, and then:

 **xPanther:** Shiho says that she's willing to send you the full album from yesterday as an apology.

Akira didn't faceplant onto his desk, but it was a near thing.

 **xPanther:** Which still isn't that special or great, as apologies go.  
 **xPanther:** But there are some really cool pictures we'll probably never see otherwise!  
 **xPanther:** And we could compare favorites!  
 **xPanther:** It'll show us what to aim for in the future.  
 **xPanther:** Which... I guess we should probably be doing anyway, huh...  
 **Akira Kurusu:** You don't have to make it up to me, *promise.*  
 **xPanther:** Tell you what!  
 **xPanther:** Let's hit up the diner on Saturday.  
 **xPanther:** Anything you want. My treat.

At which point he had to beg his brain to _just shut up,_ because it was all too happy to delete the second-to-last message and run wild with the rest.

 **Akira Kurusu:** If it would make you feel better.  
 **xPanther:** You don't want to?

Her shoulders drooped, just a centimeter or two, and Akira's fingers were moving before he had the chance to think about it.

 **Akira Kurusu:** I'd love to.  
 **xPanther:** Yay!

He didn't have to see her face to know she was smiling; the little bounce of her head said it all.

(He was the biggest pushover, it was him, Shiho was going to mock him for this _forever_ —but the bright, warm glow in his chest wasn't going _anywhere._ )

 **xPanther:** Oh, and I'll tell Shiho to send you the album, okay?  
 **xPanther:** Let's talk about it on Saturday.  
 **Akira Kurusu:** Sounds like a plan.

There was a pause, then his phone vibrated again, _volleyballsysnaps_ popping up in the notification display.

He opened up Shiho's chat and tried not to look at the picture above her latest message, but still got the impression that it was of that _one moment_ where his hand had been so high on her thigh that he swore his mind had melted a bit.

 **volleyballsysnaps:** :3  
 **Akira Kurusu:** That was foul play, just so you know.  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** ;3  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** [Sent xpanther-05-11-2020-all.zip (406.2MB)]  
 **volleyballsysnaps:** Enjoy~


End file.
